You can choose to be any superhero or super villain in the Marvel Universe, as long as they:

Are NOT deities, gods, or people such as Death. People like Thanos and Silver Surfer and Captain Marvel and Galactus are okay, though...

Are true to the personality and abilities of the character, such as no Cyclops moving planets with his optic blasts, Dazzler defeating Galactus, or Aunt May as Galatus's new Herald...

This is a working environment, so you can travel to different places using your powers or vehicles. Don't miraculously pop up unless you're a teleporter or such...

You can reside in any place in the Marvel Universe. You can also travel off-planet, to such places as the Skrull homeworld...

Don't do anything RANDOM like chopping off board user's heads or what not, unless your a villain chopping off inanimate victims heads, then whatever, go with it, as long as it's not technically RANDOM...

Don't be killing people without reason. You know your weaknesses and strengths, what you can do or can't. Dazzler will lose against Thanos one on one, but may be able to use her allies to help her out or she can run away...

If you want to take part in this, just PM BNKRPG or any of the mods or list your name and character here and I'll put your name and character on the first post here. First come, first serve...

New RP'ers must start playing on Earth unless said so by any of the mods.

You can form supervillain gangs, superhero teams, alliances, the works...

You should have a hideout of some sort, at least in the beginning when your not traveling...

If you get killed, re-spawn somewhere else like in a hospital or morgue or whatever. Keep playing...

There can be a number of stories going on at once, using different people...

Act like your characters, ASSUME their traits and personalities...

There are endless places to go and endless things to do: ENDLESS possibilities so get creative...

There are limits to time travel, do NOT time travel unless you have talked to one of the Gamemasters…

There should be MINIMAL cussing and swearing in posts.
There will be NO By-passing the censors. This is a Hype rule, and NO exceptions will be made for the RPG.

No obscene topics!

People who disobey these rules, some more major than the others, will get BOOTED a la DEW K. MOSI. As she said about the last thread...

If a player decides to kill off their character, new players must have permission from the previous player (if he is still in the RPG) to resurrect that character

Kimberly Reid had always been an unusual child. Aged 10, she should be facing a difficult time in her life, the kids at school didn't like her, leaving her all by herself. But it was no concern of hers, and in that sense, she had always been strange. It was no skin off her nose that she was alone in school, that boys had no interest in her, that people laughed at her for being different, for she lived in another world.

Kimberly loved super heroes. Every time she saw Spider-man, the Fantastic Four, anyone with powers on the news, she dreamed. They were dreams of flying, dreams of being invisible, walking through walls and growing into a giant. Her parents were concerned at her obsession, she spent all her time in her room, and they didn’t know what she got up to.

The real story of Kimberly Reid however, began a hot summer night as she lay in bed, deep in her dreams. That was the last night Kimberly dreamed of super heroes and having powers.

***

The creek of the floor board outside sprung Kimberly to action. It had always made her jump, every single time. She could spot a shadow blocking the light from scraping through the bottom of her door. “Mom?” she called out, with no reply.

Sheepishly, she crawled to the end of the bed. The dark had always scared Kimberly, but she was a determined young girl, and never refused to let it stop her. “Dad?” a little louder this time, but still no reply. Cautiously, she crept up to the door, and ever so slowly opened it a jar.

“Kimberly? You should be asleep! Go back to bed!” her eyes were wide open, never daring to blink.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Get back in your ro—“ a light flickered on downstairs, Kimberly could here faint voices.

“Hey, what the hell is this?” Kim’s Dad spoke up, his voice weak with worry.

“Get your hands where I can see ‘em and sit down.” It was an unfamiliar, rough voice.

“Okay, okay, just don’t shoot.”

“We’re being burgled?” Kim spat in surprise.

“Shh!” Her mother brought a finger to her lips, urging her to be quiet.

“Hey, you hear that?” came another, equally tough voice.
“I’ll check it out.” Footsteps interrupted the conversation, in reaction Kimberly’s mother pushed her back out of sight.

“Well, what have we got here?” the voice spoke up again, a light shining on Kim’s mother. “Down stairs please, your husband’ll be waiting for you.” Kim’s breathing increased as she pressed herself against the door frame. Where was Spider-man now? Where were the X-men? They didn’t have any clue. What could she do? The only phone in the house was downstairs. Her thinking was interrupted by the voices picking up.

“Now she’s a looker, hey, maybe I’ll get a little bit more out of tonight than I intended.”

“Don’t you touch her!”

“Or what? What are you gonna do about it? Man, I’m glad I came here from New York, no super heroes to bust my ass. I can do whatever I want to your pretty lady.”

“You get away from her!” there was the sound of a chair scraping and a heavy thud of footsteps. What followed was the most deafening sound Kimberly had ever heard, three gunshots. The mother screamed, Kimberly not wanting to believe what she was hearing. Not thinking about it, she darted down the stairs and into the kitchen, to see her Mother cradling her blood soaked father in her arms, the robbers starting to head out through the window.

Kimberly closed her eyes screamed. She screamed so loud her throat hurt. The tears streamed down her cheeks, and then she had a feeling she’d never had before. Her skin went pale and she felt lighter almost. When she finally dared to open her eyes, she saw her Mother, jaw dropped, looking horrified at Kimberly.

Then it happened, an explosion, more deafening than the gunshots that had killed her Father, but it was coming from Kimberly. Everything faded into a brilliant burst of fire. The ground began to shake, the sound of destruction ringing in her ears.

The citizens of Holcomb scrambled out of their beds and towards the nearest window. What they saw, the sight of a nuclear explosion coming towards them, was the last thing they’d ever see.

This small girl, this teenager, had just created a nuclear explosion, wiping out an entire town. Kimberly was a mutant alright, one of the most powerful on this Earth. The next shock, was that she was still alive. Not only that, but unscathed, not cuts or grazes anywhere. Slowly, ever so slowly, she dared to open one eye. What she saw, was miles upon miles of destruction.

***

Half an hour later, the site was swarmed by men in radioactive suits. They swept the area, trying to see through the tears that blocked up their goggles. When they reached the centre of the explosion, they saw the impossible, Kimberly Reid, huddled in a ball, crying her eyes out. They sprinted to her side immediately, one scooping her up. “She’s alive! My god, she’s alive!” he cried, making for the others.

Over the next few hours, a distraught Kimberly was pushed this way and that, no one giving a thought to the fact that she was all alone, they she had just watched her Father die, and then just killed millions of people. Everyone, instead was marvelling at the fact they couldn’t find a trace of radiation on her, the fact that her power seemed to have completely vanished.

Soon, the news had hit the whole world about the little mutant girl that accidentally caused the biggest disaster in American history was alive and well. Kimberly reid never wanted to think of super heroes again, but she was about to start seeing a whole lot of them.

Kimberly Reid was promptly transported up to New York City Hospital for observation and tests. They were better equipped to handle this kind of situation than anywhere in the Midwest. Not that she'd be here for long. They were going to keep her in the hospital for the short-term, while the world's spotlight was on her. Then, most likely, she would be shifted to some secure facility in the middle of nowhere, and forgotten about. But for now, the patients at the hospital were assured that this was the best place for her. And Kimberly was assured that she would be safe, that nobody was going to hurt her.

Not strictly true.

Nobody noticed the heavy-set man in the trenchcoat and fedora hat walk casually through the hospital's front doors, walking with purpose past the crowds at the ER. When he had reached a quite corridor further inside the hospital, the man stopped a passing doctor.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction..."

The voice was calm, polite. But running through every syllable was a steely coldness that instantly put the young doctor on edge.

"Where are you wanting to go, sir?"

Somewhat reluctantly, the young doctor looked up at the man, intending to make eye contact while he was talking. That proved to be impossible, the man's eyes concealed behind inpenetrable black sunglasses. The man smiled at him, but with the expression of the eyes taken away, all emotion was stripped from the gesture. It seemed mechanical, inhuman.

"I have been watching the news with great interest, to hear about further developments with this little girl. The one who wiped out Holcomb..."

"That was a terrible thing, mister."

"Yes, terrible. I have learned that the girl is being kept for observation in this hospital. Do you know where?"

The question put the doctor even more on edge. On the surface, the man's tone was cordial enough, but....something wasn't right. It was like listening to an alien or a robot going through the motions of humanity. But the tone was laced with just enough of an undercurrent of menace to make the doctor think he better tell him what he wanted to know.

"Uh...she's being kept in the Ditko Clinic, but on the fourth floor. The rest of the patients have been cleared from up there, they want her out of the way. Got her under police guard and everything. Can't be too careful, I guess."

"Can't be too careful."

The man didn't make any motion to move, merely standing on the spot, coldly observing the doctor. The doctor shifted uncomfortably on the spot, feeling like he should say something else.

"I uh...I'm sorry, but the ward is closed to the public."

"That won't be a problem."

And still, the man didn't move. Still, he stood there, smiling hard at the young doctor. The doctor wanted to just shove past him and get out of there, but instead he found himself staring back at the man. He was middle-aged - late 40s or early 50s - quite chubby.

"What are you staring at?"

The question wasn't asked in anger. But if anything, the utter absence of emotion in the response scared the doctor even more.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to stare, I....uh...it's just that....you look familiar, like I've seen you somewhere before."

The smile faded, as the man tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Oh. It is...unfortunate that you had to say that."

It was at that moment that the doctor felt his back being punctured, and icy pincers clinging onto his spinal column. His eyes widened with terror and pain as blood gurgled out of his mouth. The doctor was lifted up off the ground, and held dangling close to the ceiling as the man looked up at him.

"Most unfortunate."

The other tentacles slithered out from the folds of his trenchcoat with such flexibility and finesse, it was as if they weren't machines of metal, but organic, part of the man's body. And really, they were. While one tentacle wrapped around the doctor's legs, another tentacle clasped its pincers around his head, muffling the screams as they began to squeeze.

"Don't worry, it will be over soon. Trust me, I'm a doctor..."

__________________Check out my comics, THE STANDARD, AND THEN EMILY WAS GONE, OXYMORON: THE LOVELIEST NIGHTMARE on ComiXology!

The demon roared and lashed out at its target, fire streaking from its clawed fingertips. This is not how it was supposed to be going. He was Mephisto, dark lord and harvester of souls, lord of the under realm. This weak mortal, a man who fancied himself a superhero yet had none of the quaint super powers his peers relied so heavily on, was giving him a fight, actually standing his ground. It was irritating, enraging, and even more so when he thought about the various times this little worm had escaped his grasp.

And now his frustration was becoming evident. His foe could sense it. And he loved it.

Hawkeye kicked off the support beam of the El train, flipping up into the air and kicking out at the peak of the leap, burying two heels in the back of Mephisto’s head. He rolled with the impact hitting the asphalt in a somersault and drawing a fist full or arrows. He sprung back up to his feet, the dark lord charging now. In a flash, the arrows were sent flying, pegging the face of tall, red, and gruesome.

“That can only be an improvement,” Hawkeye noted, beginning a climb up the steel girder. It took him a moment longer than usual to reach the platform under the tracks, only because he used the climb as a moment to catch his breath. He may have been holding his own, but he was relying heavily on his athleticism and quickness. He wasn’t dumb enough to take on Mephisto head to head. A quick dodge, a roll between the legs, a kick to the gut, another jump, firing a few arrows in med air, repeat. For as much time he had spent on the attack, he had spent three times that much moving and dodging.

Mephisto vaporized the arrows protruding from his face. They caused no real damage, only serving to slow him down and throw him off guard. He screamed in irritation, ascending to the platform in a split second.

“I am so glad you are enjoying this, Hawkeye. I find that those who spend their final moments on this pitiful planet are so much easier to manipulate on the other side. Happiness is so easily manipulated, as you very well know by now.”

“And I find that…I can’t keep a straight face listening to you talk.”

The platform began to shake, signaling the impending arrival of an oncoming train above. Hawkeye feigned a momentary lapse in concentration, checking above for the train but keeping Mephisto always in his lower sights. The dark lord made a move, and Hawkeye grabbed an overhead pipe, timing the sweeping kick just perfectly to catch Mephisto square in the jaw. Summoning all his strength, he held on, using the momentum to carry Mephisto’s head up through the tracks into a face to face meeting with the locomotive. It exploded in a shower of red burning flesh, blood, and spots of flame. Hawkeye dropped back down, hunching over and sucking in air. He figured he had a minute, minute and a half tops.

Sure enough, after a momentary delay, the strewn bits of the demon’s head began to pull towards the limp body on the pavement below, reconfiguring themselves into the rough shape of a head and reattaching to the severed spine.

“It’s gonna be a long night.”

-

Waverly, Iowa
Two Months Ago…

“Hello Hawkeye. Welcome home.”

Clint Barton was paralyzed with a sweeping sense of fear. He had never seen this coming, had let his guard down. Hesitation like this was unacceptable. You hesitated you died. Simple as that.

It took another moment longer, but Clint was finally able to compose himself.

“So, it’s you. I’m flattered. Out of all the costumes who have showed up your ugly red ass over the years, you still find time to hold a grudge on lil ol’ me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. There are hundreds more worthy of my attention than you, but I haven’t gotten to them yet. You are an insignificant bug, but yet you have avoided me time and time again. I must say, I find that both irritating and exhilarating. Few have given me the challenge you have. I’m here to collect on your debt, and to see if just maybe I have under estimated you.”

Clint had lulled his head back, eyes closed, almost as if he had dozed off. Hearing Mephisto cease his rant, he lazily opened his eyes.

“Huh? You done. Sorry, it’s been a long few months. Not much time for sleep.”

Mephisto launched Clint across the empty lot into an assortment of trashcans. Clint landed in a heap, covered in an assortment of discarded food and random trash, aluminum cans crushed under his weight. It hurt like hell, but it was a positive sign. He had gotten to Mepshisto already. Rattled him. Clouded his head with anger. That was always an advantage. And for someone with only a bow, arrow, and Olympic, not superhuman ability, the mind was a great weapon. Clint had learned early on how to get into someone’s head, make them angry, cloud their judgment. No one was immune either. Aliens, mutants, humans, even demons could have their mind screwed with.

“Have your fun with him,” he could hear Mephisto tell the Swordsman and Barney. “But remember, there are others left to play. And I get the final judgment.”

Clint began to move around, gain his bearings. His hand fell on something smooth, round, metal. A trash can lid, but it felt comfortable n his hand, familiar. Very similar to a shield, a certain shield, that a certain Start Spangled Soldier had trained him on. He gripped it tight, held his position until his attackers were just in the right position, and then he became the attacker.

He leapt up, letting fly with the lid. It arced up, catching the Swordsman under the jaw and ricocheting off, circling around to catch Barney in the back of the head, dropping both. Clint didn’t wait to see them fall. He didn’t need to. He always knew where his shots would fall. The second he got the chance, he darted into the shadows of an alleyway between tow loading docks and into the streets of Waverly. He was on the motorcycle in an instant, starting it up in mid jump so that by the time he hit the seat, he was revving up and tearing down the street. He had no guarantee he wouldn’t be followed, and even if he wasn’t, this was far from over. No, it was just beginning.

Clint checked the rear view mirror. No one behind him yet. In that second, he thought about moments just like these, moments when a team, a family, were so important. And in that moment, he realized just how truly lone he now was.

"Why did this happen Daddy?" May Parker asked as she looked up from her breakfast cereal. Peter Parker stood, jaw dropped, milk running down his mouth as he gazed into the television, decpicting the horrors of the previous night.

"I... I don't know May, I think it was just... just an accident."

"An accident? But all those people are dead!" What could Peter say? Accidents happen? He was Spider-man because of an accident, an accident that had lead to the deaths of his Uncle Ben, Gwen, and Mary-Jane.

"May... eat your breakfast." that was the best answer he could come up with right now.

"Perfect!" J. Jonah Jameson cried as he slammed the phone down. "Parker! I gotta scoop! That mutie, the nuclear freak, she's down in NYC Hospital! How about my favourite photographer goes and gets me some nice big exclusive photos? Pick up a few of the menace on your way too."

"I dunno Jonah, the kid just caused a nuke, does she need the Bugle accusing her of being a demon at the moment?"

"Newsflash kid, you live in my house, eating my Crunchy-O's for Breakfast, you do what I say. You, pictures, go, now."

"Well you're the boss, boss."

"Damn right I am." Peter pulled on his jacket and kissed May on the forehead.

"Sorry May, I've gotta run, we'll talk more about this tonight."

"Love you Daddy."

"Back at ya Hun."

***

"That poor kid." Peter thought to himself as he swooped down among the cars, and then back up through the buildings. "Just looking at her reminded me so much of May, to think something like her could cause so much damage."

He reared round the corner, catapulting over a heli-copter. "It doesn't feel right getting these shots if the Bugle's gonna accuse her, but then again, I've gotta earn the bread somehow. At least I'm not going all the way out to Kansas, I don't think I could take that, not after that work we did on 9/11." As the hospital came into sight, Peter prepared his camera.

Suddenly I feel it--the twitch in my skull, and the rush of adredaline. New information comes in--a new name who someone has cried vengence for.

Javier Short--thief, pederast, slaps his wife when she doesn't "shut her f**king trap," and...now a murderer, when she just couldn't stop screaming and had to take a knife to her throat.

I press some buttons, and direct the automatic pilot of the copter to the Bronx.

He hides in an alleyway, just behind some strip club. I see him, standing next to a trash can, heart racing.

Time to make it stop.

He screams, shrilly, like a small girl. I flip in the air, feet-first to the ground and land in a crouching position on the fire escape. Tomorrow it'll hurt like Hell, but the moon's rays push me forward, doesn't allow me to feel pain. I leap down and slam my feet into Javier's back. He groans on the floor and still he tries to flee, dragging himself away with his elbows.

I grab him by the collar and flip him around. His back scraps on the pavement and he still tries to flee. I take out a a crecent blade and throw it, striking through the ring and pinky fingers on his right hand. He finally drops on his back and holds his hand to his chest, tightly, as if it'll make them regrow. I take out the spiked knuckles and put them on my left hand, striking him in the chest. I hear him whisper a question, just before the gutteral rattle.

Janet Van Dyne stares out at the Canadian Wilderness from her cabin in the woods while sipping a cup of coffee lost in her thoughts as she cuts on her lap-top.

She checks her e-mail and there are several messages. Most of them asking her to make pop in for a company function, someone requesting an interview or someone looking to visit her. She replies back to each of them the exact same way, "No--thank you. JVD"

She then opens a file on her lap-top.

Journal Entry #82

It's days like these that I used to relish as an Avenger. When the world seemed not only quiet and still but dare I think it...peaceful. Knowing full well that sooner or later some kook would wake up on the wrong side of the bed and have some grand scheme to either make themselves ruler of the world or wipe out humanity.
Janet goes back to her cup of coffee and types again in her journal.

I got my company back about 2 days after Jarvis' funeral. I put in an appearance to sign the paperwork and take a picture that was the last anyone has seen of me. Oh I go down to the General Store here for supplies if I need them. But no one knows who I really am the big news around here is that the General Store got an ATM last year. Not that anyone would really be able to recognize me. One would be amazed how well they can hide in plain sight wearing a baseball cap, no make-up, dark-glasses, a t-shrit & jeans.

She then catches sight of a picture of her in her costume with some of the other Avengers.

I shrink down once or twice a day for about a half-an-hour to keep my powers in shape just is case I ever have to use them again. Then again no one is exactly clamoring for the return of the Wasp they just want to interview me about Jarvis' funeral and if I still feel responsible for his death. Just to see if a superhero will cry on camera or say something that will sell a paper. To answer the big question yes I still feel responsible for Jarvis' death it was my command to create the trench and that trench caused the house to collapse on him. I don't know if any of the other heroes hold me responsible or not...none of them have tried to contact me since the funeral. There have been questions and rumors about the Avengers reforming. Maybe we will one day they will reform, but after our War I seriously wonder if any of us know what defines a hero anymore or that we can see ourselves as that anymore. If there is one thing I truly regret is that I said some terrible things to Clint, and now that he is gone I'll never get the chance to apologize to him. He was a pain in the neck at times, but through and through when the chips were down he was at his best.

She saves her information and shuts down her lap-top.

Janet then finishes her coffee and starts her jacuzzi.

I might be a hermit but that doesn't mean I still don't enjoy occasionally spoiling myself.

__________________
Know yourself & your enemy & you need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles-- General Sun-Tzu

"Wade, we've searched every nook and cranny of this city looking for Clint, its taken 2 months, can we just go home now?" Wally (insert fake second name here) pleads with me.

"Never! We Deadpools are a proud race, taught never to surrender, never to give up, that winning a giant game of hide and seek was the greatest honour one could possibly imagine." I peer down a post box. "Hawkeye? You in there buddy? Bark there times if you can here my voice!" nope nothing. I shove my hands in my pockets and sigh, Wally patting me on the back in support. "You know Wallster, I don't think we're going to find him."

"So we can go home now?"

"Oh heavens no!"

"But Wade, I haven't had a decent meal in months!"

"I've heard enough about you and your precious "vitamins" now Wally, now either shut up about not getting sufficient nutrients to live to the life expectancy or go home!"

"Aw no, not without adult super vision you're not, H.E.R.P.I.E.S?" A small robot jumps up beside me, I built him myself ya know, comes with Wi-Fi, toaster, and a candy floss maker. He looks just like the FF's robot, but with my own twist (hence the name).

"Yes master?"

"Watch over Master Wally on his way home."

"Yes Master but..."

"What?"

"Could I request a new name? The other robots laugh at me."

"Ugh, why did I install that feelings prgramme into your unit? You've done nothing but b***h ever since I did it."

"I just feel that you don't listen to me sometimes Wade."

"Oh again with the nagging. Why can't we just go back to how it was H.E.R.P.I.E.S? Why can't it be about the laughter and obeying?"

"I am trying master."

"I know you are old friend, I know. Now, do as I ask and we'll watch I, Robot tonight."

"Yes master, thank you Master. Patronizing son of a--"

"I heard that." as the two skip off down the road in an oddly camp fashion, I turn to face the facts, pulling my inspectors cap. "Well its time to face the facts Detective 'Pool, Hawkeye's almost 100% dead. Now as his friend, I'm sure he'd like me to get revenge by going on a murderous rampage, but I have morales as an Avenger! I can only do that on Wednesdays! And todays Thursday, the worst damned day of the week. I think its time to switch to film noir detective mode."

"The trail had gone cold, and my friend was out there somewhere. The rain beat against my neck and swept a cold shiver down my spine. As I dragged down another street, I decided I had to start from the top. My costume was wet, and I'd already spent the joke about naming a robot herpies, but by god I was going to get to the bottom of this. If - god permitting - Hawkeye had bitten the dust, it'd be because of that Civil War, and who started the Civil War? You heard me right, Tony Stark."

"It was time I gave Stark a vist, with so many questions in my mind, like where was Hawkeye? And did he have any of those Presidential M&Ms left over? As I looked down the long path I'd started to walk, I began to wonder what I'd discover. Would humans swim faster if they were raised by Crocodiles? Was Hawkeye alive? Was I overplaying the gothic noir theme to much?"

My name is Maya Lopez. And my performance tonight, is entitled "Echo".

Sometimes when I'm playing the piano, I just get lost in it all. Ironic since I'm deaf. But the vibration...the mere vibration as the strings are pulled along with each key I press on the piano sing the music to me. Even as I am now surrounded, by an array of audience members, I become lost in it all. Course, they remain quiet for my performance, and I thank them gladly, but when I get lost in the music? I forget the very audience is even here. It relieves me of all worries of the possible incorrect note and rhythm. Not like I really have to worry about that.

My photographic memory is my failsafe.

Maya finishes he first piece for the night, and she gets up to take a bow and the audience clap endlessly. The claps mimicking the sounds of a thunder storm, all but silent to Maya's ears. But she can see, and she can feel the vibrations...and she knows they are pleased. She sits back down on the piano, and the audience grows silent. Once again, she plays for them.

If I were to tell you that each note, each pitch, each octave, has their own color and pattern to them, you may think I am crazy because you cannot see it. But that is because you do not see things the way I do. I perceive much of the world differently. But there is always one thing we have been able to share in perception: right and wrong.

Although, once I let it get the best of me. For many years I was looked after from a man named Wilson Fisk. A man who took me in as if one of his own. Years came to pass, and after all the special schooling for me...talent, I began performing for the Arts all around New York City. Each show I went to, Fisk had made sure to be there, clapping along with the audience. However, his company eventually became unwanted in my presence.

I met and briefly fell in love with a man named Matthew Murdock: a blind-lawyer in Hell's Kitchen. Little does the world know, but he is also the dark vigilante of the night: Daredevil. He was so cute.

We both enjoyed each other's company, and I knew he felt what I had felt: love and happiness. At one point it seemed like it could last forever, just like the fairy tales claim...but there is always someone bound to mess things up: me.

Maya concludes yet another song, and the crowd responds with claps and calls for an encore. She can read their lips loud and clear, and gives them what they want. She sits back down again, and plays them an encore.

Fisk came to me, for a favor...me in my naiveness thinking did it without much thought. He manipulated me. He used me. He took the memory of my dead father, and did as he pleased to poison my perception of the real world. I even attacked the man I loved: Matthew. And when I finally saw things clearly, as Matt finally had opened up my ears...I took my revenge on Fisk. And I took that revenge without wasting a minute: I shot him point-blank in the face. For a while he was blind.

I say a while, for he eventually got his eyesight back. With all the green he sleeps on top of, it didn't take long before he got the best medical attention and regained his eye-sight. Course, this was all after I disappeared from it all. I disappeared from my home, from my work...from Matthew; My Matthew.

I even came back, and I came back to see Fisk. Why I could face the man who manipulated me so and placed a false vision into my head about my father when he was the very one who pulled the trigger, and why I could not re-face the man I fell in love with...still remains a mystery to me. People say Love is Blind...maybe its Deaf too.

I'll never forget the words Fisk said to me either. He said, that despite it all? He still cared for me...like a daughter...like his own. And then, I disappeared once again, and sought out a Visionary Quest. Turned out interesting, but I never went back to Matthew...why? I don't know.

Maya finishes the song once again, and she stands up, bowing to the audiences praise and clapping. The vibrations...there are so many people clapping and cheering. She looks around the audience, after hearing a distinct clap. She looks and looks around the masses, hoping to distinguish that one clap. But then she finds the source. It's not him. Just has the same clap.

__________________

Quote:

Originally Posted by TheCorpulent1

Aquaman can only be whole when he loses that hand again and reclaims the super-awesome water hand. It's one of comics' great paradoxes.

Doctor Octopus stepped out of the elevator into the Ditko Clinic. Tossing aside his fedora hat, he walked through the hallway at a casual pace. No need to hurry. The two cops at the entrance to the ward noticed him at about the same time. He smiled at them. But before either one could unholster their guns, they were both grabbed by a tentacle. Octavius let them both dangle upside down by the ankle for a moment.

"P-please..."

Ignoring the pleas for mercy, Doctor Octopus had one tentacle toss its cop through a nearby window, while the other tentacle slammed its captive hard against the floor, cracking his skull. It continued to rain down blow after blow on the police officer until his head was mush.

Not that he was particularly interested in this. He was more occupied with looking down at his coat. The doctor had spat some blood on it.

"I despise blood..."

He rubbed at the stain with his gloved thumb, while all four tentacles lunged at a third police officer running out of the ward, gun blazing. One tentacle effortlessly deflected the bullet fire, while the other three latched onto the cop, and tore him limb from limb.

"You wouldn't believe how hard it is to remove, once it gets on you..."

Octavius pauses momentarily, listening intently. Then, with a slight incline of the head, he sends two tentacles crashing through the wall to his left, yanking out a screaming nurse from her hiding place. Without even slowing down, he slams the nurse against the adjacent wall to his right, snapping her spine.

"It leaves a stain."

Entering the ward, he casually dispatches of the last cop with a snap of the neck. Only the doctor is left now. Backed against the wall, he falls onto his knees.

"Oh God! Please don't kill me. I...I only work here, I'm not going to stand in your way! You don't have to do this!"

"I know."

Octavius clenches one tentacle like a fist, and punches it right through the doctor's head. Drawing the tentacle back, he turns it round to look at the blood and brain matter clinging onto the clenched pincers. His lip curls in disgust.

He walks by the first couple of rooms. They are empty. His attention is drawn to the room at the far end of the ward, the one with the closed door. The sign on it reads KIMBERLY REID. Clasping his hands behind his back, Octavius extends a tentacle and gives the door a gentle push. It slowly swings open, creaking on its hinges.

The girl is sitting on the bed, knees tucked under his chin. She is silent, frozen to the spot, her eyes wide with fear. He smiles at her.

"Hello, my dear..."

__________________Check out my comics, THE STANDARD, AND THEN EMILY WAS GONE, OXYMORON: THE LOVELIEST NIGHTMARE on ComiXology!

Hey it me, Ben Reilly, clone of your friendly neighborhood ya know. Well its been two months sense we last talked so I think I should fill you in on whats gone down sense then. Well after the big Mysterio throw down Pete told May the truth that he is, in fact, her father. Surprisingly she took it very well and iv been in full on Uncle mode sense than. Pete claims I'm spoiling her rotten but I disagree. Sarah and I have grown closer over the last couple months but I havent been able to catch her on a free moment lately. Kaine and I have also grown closer, after Pete's apartment was trashed he let me crash at his place.

Now onto the bad news: After Devon got out of the hospital Shirley decided that this city wasent safe anymore so she has decided to sell the Daily Grind and move to Colerado to be with her parents. So that leaves me, you guessed it, out of the job and am now officially out job hunting. To add to the problems The Covenant seems to be gaining more ground in the criminal underworld, bringing more thugs under their employ. I think thats about it for the recap now im just in the middle of my usual patrol around the city. Tonight I've already stopped acouple pickpockets, a high-jacking, and a robbery. All in all pretty good night.

The two months following the battle with Osborn and his associates were peculiarly uneventful. No earth-shaking threats... no villains making declarations of war... for the first time in a very long time, Kaine spent his days simply enjoying life.

Ben, who had been rendered homeless when Peter's apartment was destroyed, moved in with Kaine. The arrangement was supposed to be temporary, but Kaine really didn't mind. The house had been quiet since May left. And since Jessica... well...

The important thing was that Kaine was living an honest life. He had no desire to break the law, or to kill... all the anger had drained out of him. He was part of a family now. And although his name was legally Stacy, he finally felt like a Parker.

ONE AND A HALF MONTHS AGO...

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Are you cooking?"

"Yes."

"Ew... I'll pass."

"What? I'm a good cook!"

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

Ben cranes his neck and looks into the kitchen.

"I'll have eggs then... but you'd better not be lying!"

Kaine shakes his head, smirking.

"I've got half a mind to throw you off my couch..."

"Really? You've got half a mind? Good for you!"

Their brotherly banter came naturally. They had never really had a chance to enjoy eachother's company in a stress-free environment before. As one might expect, they often felt like they were talking to themselves.

Ben frowns and resumes his search through the newspaper, mocking Kaine under his breath.

"You and your morals, blah blah blah..."

"I'm going to see May again today. Got any messages?"

Ben brightens.

"Oh yeah! I bought her this cool thing! Hang on, I'll bring it ou--"

"No no no... no more gifts from Uncle Ben! You're spoiling her! You want her to turn into Violet Beauregard?"

Ben raises an eyebrow.

"Violet who?"

"Violet Beauregard. You know, she's... the kid! The kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

Ben stares at Kaine, the only sound in the lavish penthouse apartment is the sizzle coming from an egg on the frying pan.

"She was spoiled, okay?"

Ben shakes his head.

"Wow. I'm pretending you never made that reference."

**********

Kaine and May walk through Central Park, the girl's attention focused on a triple-scoop cone of ice cream.

"How's Mr. Jameson? You like living with him?"

"Hmmm... he's okay, I guess. But geez! He can be really loud!"

Kaine laughs.

"Yes. That's absolutely true."

The pair sit down on a park bench and Kaine takes a few slices of bread out of the backpack he's carrying. They begin to feed the birds. Kaine watches her, his heart swollen with love and pride... but he's apprehensive. He has to have the conversation he's been avoiding.

"May? Peter told me he had a talk with you about... something important."

The girl stops feeding the bird and sits very still, staring down at her lap as she breaks a small chunk of bread into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Yep."

Nothing more is said.

"Well... don't you want to talk about it? Don't you have some questions for me?"

The girl shakes her head: no.

"Are you mad at me, May?"

No again.

"It's okay sweetheart. Really. If you want to know why--"

"But I don't."

Kaine is confused. He is at a loss for words.

"I'm not angry. I'm not sad that I grew up with you. I love you. And I love my real dad. And now I'm just happy that you're both here."

Kaine's scarred face is washed with salty tears. This kindness... he does not deserve.

"Whatever you had me for... I don't know why... but you must have thought it was good. You probably thought you were doing something good for me. Because you love me too."

Wanda Maximoff-Barton softly closed the door to the makeshift nursery as not to disturb the twins napping inside. She had relocated to the private penthouse some two months before, a seeming contingency plan set up by Clint in the case of his…no, she wouldn’t fathom the thought. Set up in case he became indisposed, she told her self. In the event the mansion was rendered uninhabitable, as it so frequently had been in the past. Yes, it was just Clint thinking smart. Planning ahead.

And yet, two months, and not a word, a letter, any indication of his whereabouts or well being. Indeed, everything left behind for her and the twins, everything that had happened in the war and the aftermath, it all pointed to on inescapable truth that everyone else had finally, if not begrudgingly, come to accept. Everyone but her. Still, it was there, right in front of her, waiting to latch onto her soul, her understanding. Clint Barton, Hawkeye, was dead, a victim of that damnable Civil War. The papers had reported it, the news channels had packaged it into neat little news reports with their own theme songs and graphics, cable channels had spit out an endless supply of documentaries, prime time specials, and a few made for TV movies, and several motion picture studios were fighting over the rights for a silver screen flick. This was all possible, it seemed, due to Clint’s true identity being a closely guarded secret and the public nature of the Avengers. No copyrights to overcome, so they said, though in the wake of it all and the fall of the mighty, no doubt there were a few involved in the superhero community who were benefiting financially. It sickened her, which was another reason she had basically become a recluse, a hermit, living her days above the people who had built them up and brought them up. In the first few weeks, she had missed the Avengers, the mansion, her friends, and wanted to try everything in her power to reconcile. But seclusion had a way of making one cynical, hateful, as she stewed in all that had happened, until she came to hate the world at large, content to live as she had early in life, outcast as a freak in the confines of Wundergore Mountain, leaning only in the comforting arms of her brother.

Much as it was now, only there were two more little lives to keep her company in Pietro’s absence. Right now, he was somewhere in Europe, shopping for fresh fruits and vegetables in a small town square market, real food from good people who worked hard for a living and were quite happy about it. How she longed for the old ways, the old country. She often wondered what kept her here now.

Clint…

She was startled from her thought by a knock at the door. Pietro back so soon, even for his amazing speed? No, he had never knocked. He had no need to. And no one else had bothered to look her up, to come visit her whole time here.

Cautiously, she made her way to the door, peering through the peephole. On the other side, glancing nervously up and down the hall, was Kate Bishop.

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat, both in excitement and concern. It was some semblance of family, a niece her husband had never known until recently, a young girl with so much heart and promise that the room just lit up in her presence. Still, just the fact that she was here, and the way she glanced around, carried herself, told Wanda all was not well with the young girl.

She hurriedly opened the door and greeted the teen in a warm embrace.

“Kate, sweetheart. It’s o good to see you. How did you find me? What brings you here?”

Kate returned the embrace, and then pulled away, Wanda getting the first real feel of the worry and concern in her eyes.

“I have some news. We need to talk.”

-

The Bishop Residence
One week ago…

“Adopted! Young lady, you have gone off the deep end. This is ludicrous.”

“Daddy…I can’t tell you how weird it feels saying that now…I have the notes, the photos. I’ve found everything you hid from me in your safe. I met my real mother, my real uncle. I know the whole story. You don’t need to protect me anymore. I’m almost seventeen years old. I just wish you could be honest with me.”

“We’ve never been anything but honest with you, young lady. You are not making any sense. Your real mother is right here in this room with me, your real father.”

“Why are you treating me like a kid. My real father is Hawkeye, the Avengers, brother. I know he died a long time ago, that my mom wasn’t able to take care of me, so she sent me to her cousin. You.”

“What! Hawkeye! The Avengers! You would believe something those trouble making capes would spew out. You were eating out of the hand of a former number one most wanted man in America, a man who was primed to lead a rebellion against his own country. He’s a criminal. He was preying off you. You’re young, confused. He was feeding off that to recruit soldiers. And you bought it. This superhero thing has been nothing but trouble, and now I find out you’ve been running around behind our backs for the past six months, still hanging out with these, these vigilantes. And now this trash coming from your mouth. What else are you doing? Taking drugs. It wouldn’t surprise me young lady, hearing all this.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“I can’t believe you! I never, ever thought I could be ashamed of my children. Not until this moment, and it’s a sickening feeling. Get your coat young lady.”

“Why?”

“We are going to the hospital. You want to spew this gibberish; we are proving we are your parents. We are getting you tested for drugs. We are then getting a restraining order put against those Avengers, those who didn’t do us a favor by offing each other, and then you are confined to your room until you apologize to your mother an myself for all the grief you have caused us, and this wild side is gone once and for all. And your friend, Hawkeye, he should be thanking his lucky stars he’s no longer among us, because I would make his life a legal hell before he pent the rest of his days rotting in a prison somewhere. If you ask me, he got off way too easy.”

-

Des Moines, Iowa
One Month Ago…

“Why can’t anything ever be easy?”

Clint Barton dodged a barrage of bullets, diving behind a pile of crushed cars in the old junkyard near the fair grounds. Another trap. This had been another trap. He had been on the run, all over Iowa the past month, retracing steps of his life, forced to play a sick game he wanted no part of, a pawn of a very twisted dimensional hopping demon with a bone to pick. While he hadn’t dealt directly with Mephisto since that first night, he had seen him observing from a distance but wouldn’t get his hands dirty, he had lost count of the number of sparring matches he’d been in with The Swordsman and his brother Barney, resurrect from Mephisto’s realm by the dark lord, playing on Clint’s emotions. It had taken him a fight or two before he realized that the entity living in the likeness of his brother was a twisted version of the darkest part of the eldest Barton’s soul. Big words and a long explanation that only Reed Richards or Bruce Banner would understand. To Hawkeye, it met one thing; he could wail on him and not feel bad. The Swordsman though, kicking his sorry ass felt like old times.

Right now though, it was neither risen demon spawn aiming for his head. No, this loser here was, well, a loser with a very big head for Clint to aim at. Problem was, he had no arrows. And the bow he had swiped was busted.

Egghead. Another corpse claimed and rose by Mephisto. He had been one of Hank Pym’s baddies, primarily, but him and Clint had a strong connection. Egghead was involved in Barney’s death. Clint killed Egghead.

It was that night, about 2 weeks ago. Clint had barely gotten away from the Swordsman, empowered with some kind of other worldly sword. Holding a grudge against his alter ego wasn’t going to get him far anymore, and the trashcan lids weren’t cutting it. It was in the dead of night, after having snuck into a sporting goods/hunting store and scavenging for a decent bow and as many arrows as he could carry (God, he hated stealing again. If he ever got through this, ever made it home, he would send the money he owed the store) that he felt another presence. Not of this world, which was becoming the norm, but not threatening either. Something that told him he was doing the right thing by re-embracing the bow, but that something was missing. It wasn’t a feeling so much as an actual voice, somewhere, telling him this, leading him to Des Moines.

At the time it had felt so right. So, after zig-zagging across the state for a few weeks to throw off his trail…it had finally worked a day or two before, he made his way to Des Moines, to the old fair grounds where another very important chapter of his life had taken place, only to be met by the Conehead wanna-be. He had been on his bike, taking a detour through the junkyard to avoid open roads, when a bullet had blown out his front tire. Clint had gone flying over the handle bars, landing in his back and cracking the bow. Sure, the arrows stayed safe and sound in the quiver, which was the irony of his life. Egghead had oddly enough forgone the senseless jabber of all the others, which Clint actually welcomed. They were familiar enough. From Egghead’s reaction, it was obvious he remembered their history all to well.

Which brought Clint back to here, now, ducking behind a stack of crushed jalopies. Unarmed, up against a gun toting demon spawn with a pointy-head and bad suit. The gunfire was getting closer. Clint scrambled around to the back of the pile, garbbing a discarded tire iron laying on the ground. Good god, he didn’t even have a knife to bring to this gun fight.

He laid in wait, trying to pick up some element of surprise. The gun fire got closer. He gripped the tire iron and…

*CHUK* *CHUK* *CHUK*

The gunfire ceased at the sound of something tearing into flesh. A moment later, he saw Egghead fall forward, flat on his face, three arrows protruding from his back. He was alive, as of yet, and Clint had an idea that it would take more than that to keep this overpowered gangster down, but for a moment, he was spared.

And then his savior rounded the corner. Clint wanted to be surprised, should have been surprised, but with the way the past year had gone, Deadpool swearing off the jokes and becoming joining the cloth would have been almost acceptable.

“Boy, you really are off the wagon.”

Clint stood up to face the new arrival.

“Actually, it seems I’ve started a new trend. Cheating death is the new big thing, Trickshot.”

Doctor Octopus stepped out of the elevator into the Ditko Clinic. Tossing aside his fedora hat, he walked through the hallway at a casual pace. No need to hurry. The two cops at the entrance to the ward noticed him at about the same time. He smiled at them. But before either one could unholster their guns, they were both grabbed by a tentacle. Octavius let them both dangle upside down by the ankle for a moment.

"P-please..."

Ignoring the pleas for mercy, Doctor Octopus had one tentacle toss its cop through a nearby window, while the other tentacle slammed its captive hard against the floor, cracking his skull. It continued to rain down blow after blow on the police officer until his head was mush.

Not that he was particularly interested in this. He was more occupied with looking down at his coat. The doctor had spat some blood on it.

"I despise blood..."

He rubbed at the stain with his gloved thumb, while all four tentacles lunged at a third police officer running out of the ward, gun blazing. One tentacle effortlessly deflected the bullet fire, while the other three latched onto the cop, and tore him limb from limb.

"You wouldn't believe how hard it is to remove, once it gets on you..."

Octavius pauses momentarily, listening intently. Then, with a slight incline of the head, he sends two tentacles crashing through the wall to his left, yanking out a screaming nurse from her hiding place. Without even slowing down, he slams the nurse against the adjacent wall to his right, snapping her spine.

"It leaves a stain."

Entering the ward, he casually dispatches of the last cop with a snap of the neck. Only the doctor is left now. Backed against the wall, he falls onto his knees.

"Oh God! Please don't kill me. I...I only work here, I'm not going to stand in your way! You don't have to do this!"

"I know."

Octavius clenches one tentacle like a fist, and punches it right through the doctor's head. Drawing the tentacle back, he turns it round to look at the blood and brain matter clinging onto the clenched pincers. His lip curls in disgust.

He walks by the first couple of rooms. They are empty. His attention is drawn to the room at the far end of the ward, the one with the closed door. The sign on it reads KIMBERLY REID. Clasping his hands behind his back, Octavius extends a tentacle and gives the door a gentle push. It slowly swings open, creaking on its hinges.

The girl is sitting on the bed, knees tucked under his chin. She is silent, frozen to the spot, her eyes wide with fear. He smiles at her.

"Hello, my dear..."

"Oh I shoulda known." Peter quipped as the hospital came into sight, the nearest window smashing, a police officer falling. Spider-man flung himself from his webline and cut through the air, colliding with the cop and hitting the wall. "Okay buddy, I gotcha, going down." he slowly webbed the unconcious guard down to the floor and then looked ahead. "Hmm, wonder who's up to no good this time."

Spriting up the wall, he vaulted inside to find the sickening sight of another cop's battered head. "Ugh-- that's some nasty work. That puts the suspects down to only a few people." sticking to the ceiling, he poked his head into the next corridor. "Oh my god--" it was lined with blood. "Hmm, looks like I've got about 2 choices left for who's going after Kimberly-- uh-oh!" suddenly remebering the child, Spider-man swung through the corridor, twisiting round and into Kimberly's room.

"Dr. Octopus! I give you too much credit! When I saw a news report about a girl that causes nuclear explosions, my immeadiate thought was that a bunch of Doc Ock wannabes were gonna come after her. I didn't actually expect you'd waste your time trying to get your tentacles on her with the world's number 1 web-swinger around!"

Peter quipped, but he was scared, so scared. He hadn't been face to face with Ock in a while, he had no idea what could happen. It didn't stop him from acting though, as he leapt down off of the ceiling, feet coming towards Ock's face.

Doctor Octopus deflected Spider-Man's attack with a backhand strike from one of his tentacles, swatting him like a fly. As Spider-Man was sent sliding along the linoleum floor of the ward, Octavius stepped out of the girl's room, slamming the door behind him, then ripping it off its hinges and smashing it over the wallcrawler's back.

"It seems I can't do anything without you trying to get in my way...Parker."

Octavius laced the last word with added malice, a reminder to Spider-Man that he knew his greatest secret.

__________________Check out my comics, THE STANDARD, AND THEN EMILY WAS GONE, OXYMORON: THE LOVELIEST NIGHTMARE on ComiXology!

Doctor Octopus deflected Spider-Man's attack with a backhand strike from one of his tentacles, swatting him like a fly. As Spider-Man was sent sliding along the linoleum floor of the ward, Octavius stepped out of the girl's room, slamming the door behind him, then ripping it off its hinges and smashing it over the wallcrawler's back.

"It seems I can't do anything without you trying to get in my way...Parker."

Octavius laced the last word with added malice, a reminder to Spider-Man that he knew his greatest secret.

Peter aided his head with a hand as he flipped onto the wall. "Guh, I'd forgotten he knew who I was now. If he were to ever look a little deeper into my life, found out about May..." he tried not to dwell on it, with any luck, the maniac'd be back in jail before the the end of the day. "So the big bad Doctor knows my name know, I'm biting my nails. Not." going on the offensive, Spider-man weaved his way through a barrage of tentacles and planted his fist on Ock's face.

"You're getting slower Ock, maybe I'll just toy with you until you die of old age. That's right Parker, quip. Make it look like you're laughing in the face of danger, when I've actually got a major problem on my hands - get Ock away from Kimberly, without ending up like the guy with a mashed head."

Doctor Octopus collapsed to the floor, knocked flat by Spider-Man's punch. With his sunglasses knocked off his face, the rage and hatred in his eyes was now clearly visible.

"You won't live to see old age, Parker!"

As Octavius struggled up to his knees, spitting a wad of blood onto the floor, his tentacles took over, flailing with vicious intent. Spider-Man ducked and wove through them, but one finally caught him, the pincers clamping onto his neck in a chokehold.

"In fact, I see your death being much more iminent."

Standing up once more, Octavius slammed Spider-Man against the wall, using two other tentacles to pin his arms to the wall too. The fourth tentacle hovered menacingly in front of Parker, threatening to strike at any moment.

"What do you have to say for yourself now?"

__________________Check out my comics, THE STANDARD, AND THEN EMILY WAS GONE, OXYMORON: THE LOVELIEST NIGHTMARE on ComiXology!

His sigh went unheard in the void as he gazed down upon the crystal blue ball below him.
Magneto, just outside of Earth's atmosphere, pondered his next move as he stared down at the planet below.

His planet.

I had tried to lead a better life, away from all the pain and conflict. A life with my daughter and her family. But, as always, the peace was not meant to be.

Your War, Stark, has shown me the errors of my ways. I know now that I was right. There is no middle ground. No possible way for mutant and human to co-exist together in peace. Charles' foolish dream is just that...a dream, Magneto thought to himself as he held his helmet to his side, a pained look in his eyes. A look of recognition, and, at the same time, defeat.

But now my eyes are truly opened. Now I realize it is beyond mutants and humans. Your War has shown me the truth. All meta-humans are under persecution from a world that hates and fears them.

"And as mutants are the next step in the evolutionary chain", he spoke to himself inside his magnetic bubble, "so now will my quest evolve."

"No more will it be just about mutants and humans", continued Magneto, "I see now that all super-humans require my aid."

"And so let the next step in my journey begin", he states to himself as he turns and reaches out to the stars.

Magneto's outstretched hand shines with a bright blue light as large chunks of debris floating around him in orbit begin to come together. Slowly, the debris begins to take shape, the familiar shape of an asteroid...

-------------------

Hours pass, but soon Magneto has finished his task. Asteroid M has been rebuilt. The Mutant Master of Magnetism looks upon his work and smiles. But there is no time for rest on this day.
No, his work has only just begun. Now he must return to the planet and gather others to his cause.
Magneto silently floated down into the atmosphere and towards Earth, his mind set firmly on the task at hand. The next step in his plans to end the persecution of his fellow meta-humans.

It was time for the Brotherhood to be reborn...

__________________"Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way."

Doctor Octopus collapsed to the floor, knocked flat by Spider-Man's punch. With his sunglasses knocked off his face, the rage and hatred in his eyes was now clearly visible.

"You won't live to see old age, Parker!"

As Octavius struggled up to his knees, spitting a wad of blood onto the floor, his tentacles took over, flailing with vicious intent. Spider-Man ducked and wove through them, but one finally caught him, the pincers clamping onto his neck in a chokehold.

"In fact, I see your death being much more iminent."

Standing up once more, Octavius slammed Spider-Man against the wall, using two other tentacles to pin his arms to the wall too. The fourth tentacle hovered menacingly in front of Parker, threatening to strike at any moment.

"What do you have to say for yourself now?"

Peter scrapped and gasped for air as Ock grinded him into the wall. "Well there goes one rib. Can't let Octavius know I'm weakening." he darted his eyes around the area. "Nothing around... can't let this be it." trying to calm himself, Peter tapped the wall he was pinned to. "Thin wall, already weakened, maybe I can just--" Spider-man started to bang his head against the wall.

"I say screw you." one final collision with the wall sent it crumbeling to the ground, Ock falling forward in shock and releasing Spider-man, who gased for air in a hurry.

"Don't mind us folks... just having a dissagreement on how to treat a patient. Oh... not that it matters, you're all in comas." taking the breif few seconds he had, Spider-man flicked his wrist, springing a web onto one of Ock's arms and pinning it to the wall.

As the three other arms made their advance, Peter leapt on top of one, activating a webline that latched onto a light. With a swift tug, it came right off and flew into Octavius head.

Doctor Octopus brought one tentacle sharply back, partially softening the impact of the light hitting his head. But the force was still enough to knock him back down to his hands and knees.

"Enough of this."

Elevating himself with the two bottom tentacles, Octavius grabbed Spider-Man with his two upper tentacles, and tossed him through the exterior wall, sending him plummeting towards the street below.

Of course, Spider-Man fired a webline to pull himself back up. He latched onto the wall of the skyscraper, but when he looked up, he was met with the sight of Doctor Octopus climbing down the wall to meet him.

"We end this now. I leave you as nothing more than a smear on the sidewalk, then the girl is mine..."

__________________Check out my comics, THE STANDARD, AND THEN EMILY WAS GONE, OXYMORON: THE LOVELIEST NIGHTMARE on ComiXology!

It was time for her to recollect her pieces. She had to start anew; refresh her senses. Just like in her past lives, the Phoenix Force had wrecked havoc on those who did not deserve it. She would make sure this was the last time. Once her time in the White Hot Room was complete, Jean would never return to Earth again. She owed the X-Men, that much. How many times did she hurt them…her own family? How many times did she destroy Scott’s fragile heart? Too many to count. It had to stop.

Jean caressed Lorna’s metallic cheek. The metal was cool and smooth. Polaris’s face was of pure terror and fear. She had no idea what she put upon herself. Her death was just as much as surprise to her as it was to everyone else. She was another victim of the Phoenix.

Moving her hand down Lorna’s bosom, Jean closed her eyes. Her own pain was too much. It was time. With a slight exhale of air, the X-Men started to pour her glorious energy into Polaris. It trickled out at first before avalanching into one massive rush of power. Not a drop would be left in Jean’s battered body. It would all be over soon.

--

She couldn’t breath. Something was pressing down upon her, choking her. Some unknown force was trying to enter her every pore. Jean opened her eyes. A sudden intake of liquid and the pitch crimson color of her surroundings surprised her. This wasn’t the White Hot Room.

“Rise,” whispered a voice from every corner of her mind.

She was in some body of...water? Her instincts told her to push upward…to swim. Lifting her arms, she moved her legs back and forth, trying with all her might to trudge through the thick liquid surrounding her. She found she didn’t need to swim that long. Her head broke the surface of the fluid and air flowed roughly into her lungs.

Jean was floating in an ocean of blood. They sky was a mix of luminous red-orange hues. Fiery shoots of energy crackled across the air sending the message of pain and disgust across one’s mind. In the distance, Jean could see harsh volcanic rock molding over an ancient dirty stretch of land. This was place was familiar. As her awareness came back to her, she knew exactly where she was. She had been here before.

“MEPHISTO! Show yourself,” she screamed. If she still had her powers, she would have found him herself. Lorna had taken all her energy. She had nothing left.

“Jean…”

The ocean of blood disappeared around her. It was replaced with a smooth obsidian marble floor. Forbidding stone walls enclosed the area. This newly formed room was lit by four large torches in each corner. Before her laid an immense golden throne. Decorating the garish chair was Mephisto.

“What do you want?” Jean snarled. She wasn’t wasting anytime. Mephisto was one of the most dangerous beings in the universe. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making her squirm.

“You haven’t even heard it yet…” he frowned, getting up off the throne. “…and as if I would take no for an answer. You can’t even leave this place or did you forget? You have no powers…”

Jean lowered her head. The demon was right. What could she do? She was defenseless. The only thing she had under her belt was her will. As long as she denied him, he couldn’t affect her with his deals. She looked at him.

“So, you’re willing to listen? Good! Here’s the deal: I can get rid of the Phoenix Force for you, but-“

“So you are crazy. I thought about it after you even considered I would accept one of your deals, but now that you suggested I give up the most dangerous entity in the world to a Satan wannabe, I know for a fact your insane,”

“Child, think for a minute. Why would I need the Phoenix Force? I am one of the most powerful beings in the universe. It would be practically useless in my control. No…I want to help you. I will imprison the Phoenix,” he said, looking at Jean for some kind of reaction. She wasn’t convinced yet. “I can see it already festering inside you, Jean. It will rise from the ashes once again. It will wreck havoc on your life once again. It will kill once again. I can make sure it never harms anyone again…”

“I’m listening…” she said meekly.

Mephisto smiled. She was breaking. With a wave of his hand, a magnificent mirror appeared on the left wall of the fortress. Tiny gold faces, each with an expression of pain and agony, framed the reflective surface. The mirror had an aura of gloomness that made one uncomfortable. It was like it wasn’t from this realm. It was unlike anything Jean had ever seen.

“This is a portal to the M’Kraan Crystal, ergo, a portal to the White Hot Room. You willingly give up the Phoenix Force and I will trap it in the White Hot Room. Without you, it can not leave. If it does, it would lose its life energy and then wither away into nothingness.” he paused to look at Jean. His voice suddenly changed from enthusiastic and oily to stern and serious. “You have my word that there is no trickery behind this mirror,”

Could it be? Was the dream she was always looking-no- hoping for here? Jean looked him the eye. He was telling the truth. Mephisto was always a man of his word. The Phoenix would be useless to him. As long as she was alive, it wouldn’t even bond with anyone else. She was the host. If it wasn’t power he was after, what was it? There was always a catch…always a price. And just like that, Mephisto seemed to be in her thoughts:

“Oh and there is ONE more thing. We haven’t discussed the subject of payment…”

“No-“

“Oh, it’s nothing drastic,” he chuckled, checking his teeth in the mirror. “If I take the Phoenix off your hands, you must allow me to erase your existence from the X-Men. Every last one of them. No one will know who you are. They won’t remember a thing about you. The catch? You will remember all of them and if you even think about contacting them….if you they even hear from you…every last one of them will die. And as for you? You’ll remain here with me to rot amongst all of these souls…”

Armed robberies, murder, villians laying low meaning sooner or later they are going to start making their moves for world conquest...they can have it. As long as they don't drop a bomb on my corner of the world I don't care anymore.

Janet goes to MSNBC and sees an unconfirmed report of Spider-Man and Ock battling one another.

Peter...Peter...when are you ever going to learn? What we do doesn't matter anymore. These clowns are going to just keep coming and coming back. Maybe we should let them have the world and see that it's not all it's cracked to be.

She starts to close her lap-top and then sees a story that catches her attention.

High-rise office building on east-side burns to the ground...hundreds of injuries and several dozen fatalities...firefighters did all they could.

Janet closes her lap-top and takes a deep breath. She feels a tear roll down her cheek and brushes it away.

I could've made a difference there's no doubt in my mind. We could've made that difference between life and death for a large number of those people. Cap would've summoned us and....and...there would be a lot less heartache tonight for some of those families.

She fixes herself a cup of tea and stares out into the night.

Maybe it's not about defeating the Dr. Dooms or the Red Skulls of the world...it's about the innocents who are caught in the middle of all of this. That they know that inspite of everything they see and hear from the villians in this world...that there are those who will fight to defend them with everything that they have. We may never enjoy an outright victory over those forces...but sometimes...holding the line is the best that we can do...and many times that is good enough.

Janet goes to her basement and cuts on the communicator console Tony gave her. She sets the frequency to an Avengers signal-wave and takes a deep breath.

Janet says, "Attention Avengers this is Janet Van Dyne. I realize that none of us have spoken to one another in a long time, but the time has come for us to assemble once again. We have been through a lot and a lot of wounds have been inflicted upon us. However the world is in need of all of us more than ever. We can make a difference in the cause of justice and hope but only working as a team. Spread the word to any heroes that you see it doesn't matter if they were Avengers before or not. We are assembling once again to continue the good fight and to honor the last wish of a good man. I will be at the sight of the old Mansion at 8am tomorrow. Anyone who wishes to join meet me there and if you want...bring a friend. I will set this message to play for the next 10 hours every 20 minutes on this frequency."
She programs the console and leaves her basement.

Janet then calls Dean Simmers her accountant.

She says, "Dean I want you to take 5 billion dollars of my net worth and transfer it into this account I am going to e-mail you. I have a project that I am very interested in making happen."

He says, "Yes ma'mm will there be anything else?"

She says, "Give the number to our #1 R & D developer they are going to get a surprise call as well."

For the first time in a long time Janet Van Dyne smiles.

This is for you Jarvis.

__________________
Know yourself & your enemy & you need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles-- General Sun-Tzu

Rays of sunlight dance across the bed as the day dawns. I squint to see the sun rising in the distance. I'm not normally awake this early, but for some reason I cannot stay asleep today. It's just one of those days that I'm anxious to get started. Ever since I returned to the X-Men, I've been feeling that way. Every morning brings with it adventures - big and small. And so here today, as the sun says 'hello' to the world, I prepare myself to face today's new adventures.

I peer over my shoulder. Piotr is still sleeping. I don't blame him. There was a time when I would have thought this to be an ungodly hour to get up. However, I see no reason to attempt to return to sleep. Even if I do fall back again, it will only be for a short time until I must rise again. I don't want to disturb him, so I quietly phase out of the bed.

After I've carefully tiptoed out of the room, I walk down the deserted corridors of the mansion - my baggy sweatpants completely covering my feet as I walk. The entire building is asleep. I wonder how many are dreaming about what this new day can bring them. For their sake, I hope it brings them all of that and so much more.

In the empty kitchen, I prepare myself a pot of coffee. I retrieve the paper and bring it inside. I glance over the articles briefly. The media is still pouring over this 'Kimberly' fiasco. Poor girl - my heart goes out to her. As I toss the paper aside on the counter, I stare out the window at the red sky whilst sipping my coffee.

Doctor Octopus brought one tentacle sharply back, partially softening the impact of the light hitting his head. But the force was still enough to knock him back down to his hands and knees.

"Enough of this."

Elevating himself with the two bottom tentacles, Octavius grabbed Spider-Man with his two upper tentacles, and tossed him through the exterior wall, sending him plummeting towards the street below.

Of course, Spider-Man fired a webline to pull himself back up. He latched onto the wall of the skyscraper, but when he looked up, he was met with the sight of Doctor Octopus climbing down the wall to meet him.

"We end this now. I leave you as nothing more than a smear on the sidewalk, then the girl is mine..."

"Don't you ever get tired of being wrong?" Spider-man quipped, flipping past a tentacle. "I mean, you say that we'll end this now, when we both know a year from today, I'm still gonna be kicking your butt all over the shop." Peter attempted to vault over Octopus, but was swatted away with ease. "Finally, I'm getting him away from Kimberly, just hope she'll be alright by herself."

"Come on Doc, let's dance." he said, going on the offensive, firing a stream of impact webbing.

Logan tossed the charred remains of his cigar into the street, allowing it to be consumed by an errant puddle that had failed to surrender to evaporation from the last rain shower. The city was surprisingly quiet, the attitudes and demeanours of its citizens no doubt mellowed by the disaster that had brought the feral to his lookout point. He was parked in a battered, aged car across from the hospital that the young mutant girl was now restrained within. Kimberly was her name, and it was a name that reeked of a childish innocence. Logan had mentally constructed an atypical image of her within his mind - neatly-styled blonde tresses held in place by a pink bow, a long light blue dress, a sparkling azure gaze. The feral slumped back into his chair, once again overwhelmed by the tediousness of his task. Xavier had desired a covert X-Man presence at the hospital to watch over the girl, and who better to send than the Wolverine?

Having recovered from his injuries due to excellent treatments from Hank McCoy, Logan had been intent on tracking down and taking down the Brotherhood that had ambushed him at the gas station. It had been a deadly cadre - Cyber, Random, the Dark Beast, and the power disruptor called Phantazia - and he had enough sense to match his fuel for veangeance to realise that victory could only be attained with a team of fully-fledged X-Men at his side. Xavier had gathered a number of the team and prepared them for the assignment, but the Holcomb Crisis had intervened in their plans. Now the mansion was on high alert, and Logan was a mere reconaissance agent. He appreciated the silence, but simultaneously, he needed to be active. As powerful as his regenerative healing factor was, his wounds had been extensive, and his joints occasionally throbbed in irritation as though they were pleading to be stretched and used. Little did he know that an opporutnity to do so was but moments away.

His enhanced hearing alerted him to the sound of glass shattering, and then muffled dialogue as a swiftly-paced combat ensued. Logan burst out of the vehicle and darted towards the other side of the building. He skidded to a halt and his eyes snapped upwards to settle upon two familiar figures poised upon the side of the towering building. The closest figure to him was Spider-Man; the other was Doctor Octopus, whose metallic limbs were swiping ever closer to the arachnid hero. Logan cursed under his breath and launched himself upwards, scrambling towards the two fighters with an ease that betrayed his years of experience. He slipped past the two and propelled his body through the gaping hole that they had left in their wake. Now only metres away from the pair, he allowed his claws to spring forth with a satisfying snikt.

"I'm guessin' that you two fightin' here with our Holcomb girl ain't coincedence," he granted, gritting his teeth. "So who am I slashin'?"